The Tiger's Eye
by WritingAboutEdward
Summary: Dream team-Bella,Emmett,Alice,Edward,Dr. Rosalie and Jasper are called onboard the Save the Tiger Project. When animals start diappearing and the team is blamed, they have to do all they can to clear their name. Better sum inside. AU/AH,OOC, canon pairing


**Disclaimer:** **All characters belong to the great Stephenie Meyer...though the plot and Mr. Purohit are mine...**

**A/N: Hey folks...this is kinda my first "all-thought-out" story on ff and not just a leap...hope you enjoy it...**

**Lots and lots of love to my beautiful beta Lady Merlin for fiving it a makeover it so desperately needed...without you it would be a bubbling mess of incoherent words....**

**To Whitelight72 for having faith and encouraging me...sorry...hope you read this...muah...**

**To all my readers(Hoping to have some)...i hope you enjoy reading my little attempt at writing...there are so little mystries on twilight and I thought I'd give one a try...don't worry there's gonna be a LOT of romance...after-all I Am that kind of a person... ;)**

**Summary: Bella and Emmett Swan are world-class nature photographers. They are called on by an NGO to be part of a dream team consisting of expatriates - Edward and Alice Cullen, entrepreneur Jasper Whitlock and Dr. Rosalie Hale for the Save the Tiger Project.**

**After initial troubles, the group forms a unique bond of love and friendship. But when endangered animals start disappearing and the team is blamed for it, they have to race against time to clear their name and in the process uncover a sinister plot that could possibly change the course of mankind... **

**There's the general gist...hope you enjoy reading it...**

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"Lucinda, send him in," a voice echoed through the narrow hallway. The stunning lady behind the desk, Lucinda, no doubt, looked over her horn-rimmed glasses and nodded at the tall, coffee-coloured Indian sitting in one corner. He couldn't explain it, but he had an irresistible urge to turn the other way and run out of the domed atrium. He did not want to leave the sunlight behind him, not for the cold, dark corridor, not for all the money in the world.

Her nod could only have meant one thing, so she didn't bother wasting her voice. She flipped through the glossy magazine on her table, and the utter coolness of the situation made him more nervous than he had been when he came in. He found himself perspiring slightly, his body over-heating despite the aberrant chill of the room and the path afore him. He loosened his tie slightly, and gulped. He swept his hand through his wavy black hair and got up, nervously straightening the coat of his navy-blue pinstripe coat. The back of his suit was damp and he would have done anything to get rid of it; now _he_ would know he was scared.

He walked past the secretary's vestibule, giving her an edgy smile (she ignored him), and straight into the corridor. For a terrifying second his heart stopped; he couldn't see. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness his vision recovered. The corridor was surprisingly plain, made of unfinished cement. The air was moist and still and cold. He made himself move forward; left foot, then right, then left. Each step felt like an eternity to him.

The room the corridor opened into was dimly lit, made of grey plaster which did _nothing_ for the atmosphere. The plaster was shaped in delicate designs, whorls and swirls, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be depictions of torture, horned men and their victims. Despite the sepia quality of the room, he shivered, perfectly able to visualize the scenes in his mind – blood and gore.

A man, who was stunningly youthful for his age, sat behind a large redwood desk. He had long black hair, tied hippy style. Unfortunately there was nothing hippy about him, not even in the most respectable hippy-producer sort of way. His skin was papery white, like he was wearing a Chinese opera mask, complete with blood red lips. He would have looked comical, if not for the gravity of the situation.

"Ah_, Sri_ Purohit Das_, padhariye." _His accent was almost flawless, better than any non-Indian Purohit had ever heard. He was startled that _he_ had used his full name. Mostly people called him Mr. P, for the sake of convenience. The man gestured the tense Indian forward. Purohit bowed his head slightly and took the offered seat.

"So, Purohit, why this sudden urge to meet with an old acquaintance?" he enquired, tone businesslike and curt. He took off his dark glasses, and revealed stunning gold yet strangely sinister eyes.

"You know perfectly well what brings me here, Aro." Purohit stated. His English was tainted with a slight North Indian accent but his tone crisp and clear. He could have used his 'British' accent, or his 'American' accent, but he couldn't be bothered. Aro would see right through him anyway.

Aro chuckled, "Just fooling around with an old friend, Puro. Please elaborate on your purpose though. The phone call was rather," he paused, searching for a word, seemingly at a loss, harmless, "vague." Purohit was not fooled.

"My company wishes to do business with yours Aro, but I am afraid it is a rather delicate matter." Purohit spoke with a sudden air of importance and urgency. "We need assurance that the exchange will be absolutely discrete, before we can continue our association with you." His purpose gave him confidence. They knew where he was, and he would be missed before long. And Aro wouldn't hurt him. Not now, not when he needed Purohit too.

Aro nodded as if he had been expecting nothing less. He shrugged, which Purohit noted was a non-committing gesture. He suddenly grinned, showing sharp teeth in a carnivorous grin, as if he could sense Purohit's discomfort.

Purohit retrieved a letter from his breast-pocket and handed it to Aro, looking over his shoulder with the grace of a man who was used to it.

Aro opened the letter. As he read there was a slight change in his smug features, so minute only a human seasoned in the art of face-reading could discern it.

"My, my, Puro, What have you gotten yourself into?" The question was innocent, but again, Purohit was not fooled. He had not got where he was by not noticing these things. His tone had become suddenly more crisp and businesslike.

"I have no doubt you are aware of the possible repercussions of such an operation, Mr. Purohit." Purohit noted the change in formality. "You could be charged for life, Puro. Life." Aro's eyes scrutinized him, searching.

Purohit smiled. He wasn't a complete idiot; he knew that. He knew that all too well. "Will you be part of this, Aro?"

Aro's confident, playful smirk was a contrast to Purohit's dark smile. "Without a doubt, old friend. Without a doubt."

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**A/N: Please Review and let me know if I should continue...**

**Translations: Sri = Mister**

** Padhariye=Please have a seat (Welcome)**


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